Never Enough
by Team Damon
Summary: She was his first, closest, and only friend, a vibrant, feisty little girl who grew into a beautiful and determined young woman within a blink of his eye. They are inseparable until the day comes when they suddenly aren't any longer, and that is the day that he first tastes the bitter - and addictive - sting of hatred. Loki & Sif, from the beginning. Oneshot


**A/N #1: nothing spoilery ahead unless you count scenes from the TDW trailers we've probably all seen a million times by now. Full notes at the bottom :)**

He first saw her when no one else was looking. A little golden-haired girl of six or seven years, scampering about the palace gardens seemingly alone, wielding a stick of wood and pretending that it was a sword. She struck at the air, her long skirts swishing this way and that as she pretended to strike down her foes, and he thought it was strange. He'd never seen a little girl play in such a way before, but he also hadn't seen that many little girls in general before - he was, after all, only eight years old himself, and he was a prince who was kept in the shelter of the palace most of his days.

He watched the girl until her mother appeared, taking the stick out of her hand and chastising her for "playing that silly game again". He heard more words about how she needed to listen and start acting like a proper little maiden, and the little girl protested the entire time as she was led away. He smiled a little bit - he'd been told before that his own interests were ill-placed and to properly remedy it, and his response had been much the same. But he was lucky enough to have a mother who nurtured those interests regardless of what others, including his own father, said. This girl appeared to have nobody on her side.

"Brother!" a familiar voice sounded, interrupting the young boy's thoughts as he turned. "Why are you lurking out here in the gardens? Come, I have something to show you!"

"But, Thor, I have to practice my -"

"Come on!" his brother urged, dressed in red and brown and smiling between a frame of hair the same color as the little girl. "You don't want to miss this, Loki!"

He sighed, glancing one more time at the place where the little girl had been, and then reluctantly allowed his brother to drag him off to whatever adventure he'd cooked up today.

He would see the girl again after that, periodically, always on the palace grounds and nearly always alone. Her parents were of very noble stock and would see the All-Father often, leaving the girl to her maids who would usually just sit and watch her play. But the maids, at least, didn't attempt to control the manner in which she played, as her mother did.

The first time he spoke to her, she had been playing in the gardens again, and he had been on the other side of a large hedge, looking down thoughtfully at a caterpillar in his small hand. Out of nowhere, a very sharp stick had whizzed over his head and landed in the ground about an inch away from his foot. He knew she'd be there when he looked up, and sure enough she was, and wearing a very horrified and embarrassed expression.

She quickly gave a bow and stammered, "I... I'm... so sorry, your... Highness, I didn't know you were -"

He grinned and picked the stick out of the ground, getting to his feet. "It's all right."

"No, it's not, I..." her cheeks continued to redden, and Loki smiled as he placed the stick back in her hands. "My mother was right. Maybe shouldn't be playing like this."

"Or maybe your mother should have you properly taught how to throw a spear," Loki suggested, and the girl's eyes went wide for a moment.

"My mother says it is improper for a young maiden to learn such things," she said after a long, pause. "She says I should learn to play instruments and draw art instead, but..."

"But you are no good at either," Loki guessed, and her eyes widened a little bit again. She seemed in shock still that he was even speaking to her. "I know how you feel. I am not good at what I'm supposed to be good at, either. Or, at least, not as good as my brother."

"Really?" she asked, her big, dark eyes twinkling a little bit, lighting up as if she'd found a kindred soul at last.

He nodded, then showed her the caterpillar in his hand. "Watch," he said with a grin, then closed his hand around the insect. A moment later, he opened his hand, and a fully grown butterfly emerged, wings the color of rainbows fluttering rapidly as the girl's eyes became huge. She laughed and clapped her hands together.

"Magic! I've never seen it done before," she marveled, and her smile was contagious.

"What's your name?" Loki asked, and just as she opened her mouth to answer, her handmaiden called out for her.

"_Sif! Where have you gone off this time?"_

The little girl sighed, and Loki smiled again. "Sif," he said. "I am Loki."

She smiled back and again opened her mouth, and again was silenced by the calls of her maid. She scowled, and Loki merely said, "Go. I'll see you again soon."

She did as he said, and he did see her again, several more times over the next few months. He would find her when her parents were busy inside the palace, and they'd run off and play as any boy and girl their ages would. He wasn't always perfectly nice to her - one time, when she'd caught hold of a little baby bunny and was busy petting its beautifully white fur and cooing over how cute it was, Loki grinned and swiped his hand through the air behind his back. The bunny then became a slimy rat, and Sif shrieked so loudly that her handmaidens had thought she'd been maimed.

But she gave as good as she got, even at that tender age, and she got her revenge by pushing Loki into a lake against his will. He despised the water as much as she despised rats.

They didn't share many interests, but what bonded them was the lack of acceptance from others. Loki encouraged her to stick to who she was and do what she wanted, regardless of what anyone said, and show them all as she grew up that even a girl could be a fierce warrior. She, in turn, made him promise her to never give up magic, which she deemed to be nothing short of beautiful.

It was the least isolated that either of them had ever felt in their brief lives. And then, one day, she was gone.

Her parents had been sent to the opposite side of the realm, to assist Odin with some sort of diplomatic issue - Loki cared not for the details. He merely waited for the day he'd see his friend again.

That day didn't come for years. When it did, Loki was sixteen, Sif fifteen, and she walked back into his life as unexpectedly as she'd come into it. He'd just gotten done being pummeled by Thor repeatedly in the arena for the day - Loki was being taught the art of warfare just as rigorously as Thor was, as disadvantaged as he was with being forbidden to use magic during the spars - and he walked with heavy, annoyed steps towards the palace, smoothing down his black hair as he shook off the indignity of the day and focused his thoughts on holing himself up in his room where he was free to immerse himself in magic in peace.

He was power-walking past the gardens when a voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"_Odin's wolves_ - you've grown tall."

He turned around and looked to the entrance of the gardens, and sitting atop an elaborately carved stone bench was Sif. She herself was much taller, and her cute baby face had grown into a thing of beauty that was beyond her adolescent years. Her long golden hair had lost its curl and now hung straight over her shoulders and down her back, and he thought it suited her better like that.

"And you... are no longer a mop-haired little runt of a girl," he replied, still in shock, and she pretended to be annoyed with his words through a roll of her eyes. Then he grinned, and she smiled back just before getting up and all but running into him as hard as she could, nearly knocking him over with the sheer force of her embrace.

It was instantly as if no time had passed at all, and they picked up just where they had left off. There was not a trace of awkwardness as Loki returned her embrace, not a single pause as she drew back and linked her arm with his as he demanded to know what she'd been doing all of this time.

She told him of her homelife, which had remained largely the same - she wanted to be a shieldmaiden, and neither her father nor her mother would hear a thing of it, even after all of this time. Loki sympathized, telling her of his own frustrations, and she was quick to try to reassure him.

"But, a man who could be the future King of Asgard ought to be trained in the art of warfare," she reasoned. "It is only logical."

Loki's jaw set at her words, and she noticed. "I am not firstborn. I will not ascend to the throne. My father has already made that clear, if not in words, then actions."

She didn't try to argue with him further. She hoped he was being premature in his judgements, but she had no way of knowing. "Well... if it's any consolation, I would gladly take your place in the arena."

"It's not the fact of training that I loathe," Loki pointed out. "It's the fact that I cannot utilize my strengths against my brother. He is all brute force and I am..."

He trailed off, and Sif looked up at him as they came to a stop. "What is it?"

"I've just had an idea," Loki grinned.

She raised an arched brow and asked, "Should I be frightened?"

"Not at all," he replied. "I can teach you. To fight. Nobody trains in the arena after dark."

It took a moment for his words to sink in before her eyes lit up. "Are you jesting?"

"It is no jest," Loki smiled. "I believe this can benefit the both of us. What say you?"

"Do you have to ask?" she retorted with a smile. "When can we start?"

"Tomorrow night, I think," he said, another idea springing up in his mind, though she couldn't know about it just yet. "You aren't going to be disappearing again anytime soon, are you?"

"Not unless your father requests it again," she replied cheekily. "Do you think I enjoyed living in the cold North all this time? And it was all for nought, mind you - my parents didn't even manage to get the dwarves to..."

Loki smiled as he watched his friend rant about the failed exercise, shocked at how much he suddenly realized that he'd truly missed her. She'd blossomed so much in their time apart, and he couldn't deny the little twinges he felt when her eyes would meet his. Everything seemed immeasurably better with her back, and all of the frustrations and irritations that he normally clung to and festered over were now far from his mind. It was a welcome feeling.

That night, he put in a request for a new sword and shield to be made. Nobody questioned a prince's request such as that, and by the very next afternoon, the items were delivered to his room. He'd dictated the size and the design, and he found the finished product to be satisfactory. He hoped the person it was intended for would also find it to her liking.

He met her that night in the arena, after dinner, after his excuses had been made, and when he found her there waiting for him, he again felt those odd twinges. They fluttered down in his stomach, and he didn't quite understand them, but he pushed it out of his mind as he smiled brightly at his friend.

"And here I was afraid you would change your mind."

She scoffed. "Oh, that's likely."

"I brought a gift," he grinned, stepping up to her.

"Oh?" she raised a brow. "What sort?"

"Something you'll need."

Sif then watched as he moved his hands almost lazily, bringing them together and then pulling them apart, only to cause her jaw to drop when a sword and a shield then appeared before her very eyes.

"A warrior needs her sword and her shield," Loki grinned, watching elation cross her features as she first took the sword from him, then the shield.

"Where - are these from the palace?" she asked, staring at the sword like she'd never held anything so wonderful in her life.

"Yes. I had them made specially for you," he smiled, and she lit up even more. "I've also brought a sheath for -"

He couldn't finish his sentence before she threw herself into his arms, her gifts still in her hands and clanking together as she clutched him tightly. He hugged her back with a chuckle, the scent of her hair filling his nose and making him feel slightly off-balance until she abruptly pulled away and began to try out her new toys. He watched her swing the sword through the air as she had the little wooden stick when she was just a child, and he admitted himself intrigued by this young maiden before him.

Loki's idea ended up being nothing short of purely mutually beneficial, just as he'd thought. He taught her the basics of fencing, hand to hand combat, and the other arts he'd been compelled to learn, and she soaked it all up like a sponge. She was an ideal student, not questioning his instructions and heeding each one perfectly. He saw that her skill would eventually easily surpass his own, and when that day came, she would have to find someone else to continue her training. But until then, he had her all to himself.

They would fight and spar to the point of exhaustion, then linger as neither would be nearly ready to go back to their homes yet. They would talk about everything and nothing, laugh and share jests as well as what brought them sadness.

Loki found solace in her because she accepted him for what he was, and her jests did not feel nearly as sharp and pointed as those of his brother or his friends who'd taken to calling themselves the "Warrior's Three". On the contrary, she could poke fun at him all day long and he would know that it only came from a place of affection. She, in turn, took great comfort in him, the first person she'd ever known who didn't tell her what to do or what to be, or that she couldn't do something. He told her that she could be anything, and because he believed it, so did she.

Once their combat skills reached equality, Loki decided to use it to his advantage, and train with her the way he was forbidden to with the others. The first time, he tricked her with a double of himself, and she aimed a kick at him only to watch it go straight through him as if he'd been a ghost, she gave a shriek that only became louder as his solid self gripped her from behind.

"What in the name of the Nine Realms -"

"Magic," he grinned, letting her go.

"You could have warned me!" she protested, glaring at the gleam of mischief in his eyes.

"Just a bit of fun. Sorry," he grinned. But he wasn't sorry, and she knew it when he continued to incorporate magic in his defensive and offensive strategies.

She realized during this time that Loki was not at all an inferior fighter. She'd yet to meet Thor, but from what she knew of him, she imagined him to be something akin to a bear - large and strong, pure strength and muscle, a force to behold in battle. But Loki was... graceful. He danced around her, glided and flitted and disappeared and reappeared, always a step ahead of her. If Thor was thunder, then Loki was the wind, and how does one catch the wind?

Everyone she knew spoke little of Loki, and when they did, it was often with a shake of their head and a dismissal. He was in Thor's shadow even in the minds of the people, normally an afterthought. The sentiment she'd heard echoed the most often was speculation on how a child born to Odin and Frigga could have such dark hair. Dark hair was a rarity in all of Asgard, but on their Prince, it was even stranger.

"Where did you get this hue, if you don't mind my asking?" Sif asked late one night, as they lingered in the arena. Loki had conjured them drinks, and they sat underneath the night sky, having their usual carefree talks. He tried not to stiffen too much when her finger lightly touched a strand of his hair behind his ear for emphasis.

"... I do not know," Loki admitted. "It's a bit strange, isn't it?"

She shrugged. "It's different. I like it. I almost envy you."

He looked at her strangely. "For my _hair?_"

"I have the same boring color hair as every other maiden in this realm," Sif sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I looked different... perhaps others would expect different from me. Do you know what I mean?"

He did and he didn't. He thought she was reading a bit too much into a mere hair color, but he also understood the statement she was making about conformity and the need to establish herself as something out of the Asgardian norm. She was not the average maiden, and she refused to live the life of an average maiden, so why should she look like one?

"Yes, I do," he replied after a pause. "I can help you change that, you know."

Her eyes snapped up to his. "You can?"

"Of course I can," Loki grinned. "What color would you prefer?"

She smiled and then laughed a little bit. "I... well, I suppose... perhaps black, like yours?"

His lips quirked at that. "As you wish, my lady."

She giggled then as he stood and moved behind her, looking down on her mane of blonde hair as she sat excitedly waiting. "Are you sure about this?" he asked as a final precaution.

"When have you ever known me to be unsure of myself?" she rolled her eyes.

Loki smirked, then gathered up her hair in his hands. He started at the roots, then moved up slowly, until his hands had reached the roots near her scalp. "This is going to be a bit... warm," he warned as his hands heated up. She didn't mind - she thought it felt nice.

Starting at her hairline near her forehead, he began to sweep his fingers down her hair, from root to tip, and as he did, the strands turned as black as night. He'd never used this spell on hair before, so he was glad that he was correct and the spell ended up not causing her hair to combust or fall out. He doubted if she would have forgiven that one.

When most of her hair had been successfully changed, he came back around and took his place beside her again. Then he reached out and touched the strands near her face that he hadn't gotten yet, and she watched him, the same excitement etched on her features as when he'd first started. His eyes met hers when it was done, and he let his fingers linger on her hair on purpose, for just a second or two.

She'd been right - the darkness suited her far better than her natural golden blonde. She had already been strikingly beautiful, but now, he thought she truly looked as she should. This was _his_ Sif, that little girl with the boundless dreams and kindred spirit that brought him peace when little else did.

He wanted to lean in close to her, to make her lips the first ones that he would ever kiss. His mind screamed at him to do it, but his nerves were far too strung to allow it.

"Can I see?" she asked excitedly.

He smiled back, masking his disappointment in himself, and replied, "Of course."

He waved his hand, and a puddle of sparkling clean water appeared on the ground at their feet. She leaned forward and gasped when she saw her reflection, and for one terrifying minute, he thought she hated it. But then she laughed, and smiled broadly as she exclaimed, "I love it! It's so much better. Don't you agree that it's better?"

"I do," he nodded, and she launched herself at him. He accepted the hug with a chuckle, and the kiss on his cheek served as little more than fuel to his self-loathing for not turning the peck of a kiss into more.

While Loki inwardly kicked himself and Sif continued to revel in her new look, neither of them were aware that from afar, another prince watched them in amusement. Thor had noticed Loki's frequent absences after dark, and when merely asking him didn't procure any answers, he'd decided to check up on his little brother's whereabouts tonight. He hadn't expected to find him sparring in the arena with a maiden, and what a fierce maiden she was! She had equally matched him move for move, besting Loki even when he tried to cheat with magic, and that thoroughly impressed Thor. Watching his brother play handmaiden to the girl and altering her hair had been a bit stranger to watch, and Thor thought it best to leave now, usually not one for spying, but he was glad that he'd come tonight. How long had Loki been planning on keeping this intriguing little warrior all to himself?

The next day was a day that Loki would forever recall in anger. His own daily training time in the arena, with his brother and the Warriors Three, had taken a bizarre and maddening turn when Thor had shown up late. With Sif.

_His_ Sif.

She, of course, was ecstatic to have been personally invited by Thor to come and spar with him and the others, and he could understand that. He didn't begrudge her enthusiasm - but he had a rather large issue with Thor.

That issue became many as the day progressed. The group put Sif to the test quickly, and she proved just as quickly that she was not to be trifled with.

"Nine Realms!" Fandral chuckled when she pinned him to the ground with a triumphant grin on her face. "You are no novice! Who trained you, my lady?"

She stepped up and off of the warrior, and motioned to Loki. "He did."

Every person in the arena, even Hogun the Grim, laughed. Loki gritted his teeth, not about to let their derision get to him now of all times, but Sif showed enough anger for them both. "Why do you laugh? He is every bit a warrior as any of you. In fact -"

"I don't need you to defend me," Loki suddenly snapped, speaking to Sif but glaring at Thor as he stomped out of the arena. He had no desire to continue with this charade, and certainly no desire to be the laughingstock of the group when the one person in the entire realm that he considered to be his friend would then feel obligated to speak on his behalf.

He thought - hoped - that it would be a one-time occurrence, but it wasn't. Thor was so taken with Sif and the novelty of her that he invited her to train with them daily, and she happily accepted. At first, Loki refused to accompany them any longer, but Sif persuaded him to do it for her. He acquiesced, but only for a short time.

He saw it in Sif's eyes every time Thor looked at her or spoke to her, and especially when he offered a word of praise to her. She lit up for him the way that Loki had always wanted her to light up for him. Just the smallest of glances from Thor made her cheeks tinge pink, and Loki could have laughed at the predictability of it all if he wasn't too busy seething at the unfairness.

He wasn't going to sit there and watch it happen, and certainly not while being punched and kicked and thrown for sport. He began to spend his days at the palace with his mother, focusing his energy back on his magic, and his days with Sif became few and far between - only once weekly, if he was lucky.

He missed her. He hated that Thor had somehow managed to steal her away from him, and that she seemed rather happy either way. Perhaps the friendship he'd valued so greatly had been one-sided.

But, despite his dark thoughts, when Sif asked him to spend her day off with her, he agreed, and the fact that she had initiated the contact gave him a glimmer of hope. He decided that he shouldn't just give up so easily. So what if Thor always got what he wanted, and Loki usually had to settle for whatever was left? This time, he'd fight to make sure it didn't happen that way. Sif was a person, not a toy or possession to be taken and hoarded away by Thor, and anyway, she'd been his friend for far longer than she'd even known Thor.

They were to meet in the palace gardens, the place they had first met as children. It had remained a favorite place for them, and as he walked from the the hallways of his home and out through the gates, he contemplated that day when he'd found the little girl with the pretend-sword, tiny and headstrong, and it made him ache a little inside. If she chose Thor, and Thor's friends, over him, he would take it as an even deeper betrayal for the mere fact that he _knew_ her, and he _knew_ that she didn't belong with them. They were all dull, thick-headed bores, and she was anything but. She was bright and fiery and... different. Like Loki. She wasn't like them. _She_ _wasn't_.

He repeated this to himself in his head as he walked, as if to convince himself of it, and when he neared the hedges where he and Sif always met, a caterpillar lounging on the tip of a violet rose caught his attention. He stopped and delicately picked the little insect up, now thinking about that first day that he had spoken to Sif as a child, and then he kept walking. He closed his hand, and inside his fist the caterpillar bloomed into a rainbow-colored butterfly, just like the one he'd showed Sif all those years ago.

But then he turned a corner, and he heard voices. One voice that he loved to hear, and another that he was despising more and more every day. He knew that if he took one more step forward, they would come into his sight, and he nearly refused to take that last step.

"Come now, Sif..."

"Thor..."

"It's just us, nobody else is here."

"But I was waiting for..."

Silence. Surely there was a physical explanation for why her sentence was cut short.

Numbly, Loki stepped forward. He was completely unsurprised to see Sif in his brother's embrace, being kissed by him and kissing him in return.

Loki's fist tightened, and he crushed the butterfly into tiny little rainbow-flecked pieces that then fell from his hand. He may not have been surprised, but he _was_ furious.

Eventually Sif noticed his presence. She gasped and pushed Thor away instantly. "Loki."

"Loki?" Thor repeated dully, looking up in confusion only to see his brother nearby, watching them with a murderous expression. "Brother..."

Sif had never seen Loki look so terrifying - it left her utterly speechless. Loki glared viciously until he turned on his heel and left, which seemed to rouse Sif enough from her stupor to go after him. Thor had the good sense to stay out of it, for once.

"Loki!"

He kept walking as she called after him, anger and jealousy propelling his steps. He didn't say a word.

"Loki, stop, please!"

He didn't. He kept walking until he felt her hand close on his arm. He yanked his arm away and spun around, turning his hard gaze upon her. "_What,_ Sif?"

She flinched at his tone. "I... I'm sorry, Loki, I didn't think -"

"What _did_ you think?" he asked, his tone mocking. "All this time, what have you been thinking? That I was your road to Thor? Was that why you were my friend, to get close to my brother?"

"What?" she gasped at his preposterous question. "No! You know that's not true!"

"Do you think he cares for you?" Loki went on, ignoring her words. He was smiling now, a cruel, derisive twisting of his lips that left Sif feeling cold. "Is it love, Sif? Tell me. Tell me all the things he's told you that you're stupid enough to believe."

The word _stupid_ seemed to snap Sif out of her daze. "Do not speak to me like this, Loki."

"Why not? Does it matter how I speak to you? Clearly, I seem to not matter in the slightest to either of you."

Sif closed her eyes briefly. "Loki, listen to me..."

He didn't want to. "Did you know that my brother's already had his fair share of whores? He's started earlier than anyone in the family. Are you drawn to that sort of thing?"

Her eyes flashed. "Exactly what are you playing at?"

"You know exactly what I'm playing at," Loki half-growled. "He will have his fun with you and drop you as if you never existed, as if you were less than an afterthought. Is that what you want? To be nothing more than another common wh-"

He couldn't finish the word before Sif had slapped him hard across his face. He knew that he deserved it. He didn't care.

"Whatever he is," Sif said in a shaky but determined voice, "he is surely twice the man that you will ever be."

Loki watched as she walked away, his cheek still stinging from her strike, and he knew that nothing would ever be the same. He crossed the line with her, pushed her too far with far too cruel of words, and he knew that he'd lost her.

Although, he couldn't be sure that he'd ever truly had her. Was _anything_ truly his?

Thor apologized to him later, and Loki accepted verbally while inwardly refusing to do anything of the sort. He didn't believe that Thor could be genuinely sorry for anything, the entitled bastard. He'd say the words, and then keep on doing exactly as he pleased. And that is precisely what Thor did.

Eventually, after much time had passed, Loki apologized to Sif for his carelessly mean words. She forgave him as he had forgiven Thor - in other words, not at all, but she pretended to for the sake of civility. Their relationship was never the same, never comfortable again by any means, and Loki never forgot any of it.

Many, many years later, after Loki discovered his true parentage, threw a god-sized, Earth-invading hissy fit stemming from it, and was then at last released from the deepest, darkest dungeon on Asgard for the purpose of fighting a common enemy that Thor was clueless of, Loki had still not forgotten. In fact, it all felt rather fresh in his fractured mind as he watched Sif stare sullenly at Thor's mortal love, Jane Foster.

After all of this time, and all of the changes and horrors that Loki had seen and experienced, it seemed to him that everyone else had stayed the same. Thor was still a well-meaning dolt. Sif was still a confident, admirable warrior, though he found it hard to admire someone who still stared at Thor like a lost puppy when his attentions were clearly fixed upon someone else.

And so, just before he and Thor set to leave Asgard to hunt down their new shared enemy, and just after Sif got in her little "If you betray him, I'll kill you" speech with a blade to his throat, Loki decided to say something he'd been dying to say for some time now. He grinned as Sif slowly withdrew her blade, eyeing him with all the hatred that he expected from her, and he continued to smile with each word his spoke.

"How does it feel, knowing that no matter what you do, how loyal you are, or how much you love and care for him... you'll still never be enough? And that you'll never be what he truly desires?"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she appeared to have nothing to retort with, just as he knew she wouldn't. He continued to grin and spoke his parting words.

"Now you also know how it feels."

**A/N #2: This is the latest symptom of my mental Thor-induced apocalypse. That's only mildly hyperbolic, btw - I'm quite literally on the verge of going totally bonkers waiting for The Dark World. I'm fangirling so hard that I fear I may actually faint when I finally get to see the movie, and that would just be humiliating... but, ANYWAY. Here we have my own little twist on the Loki/Sif hair story from the comics, except in my version Loki's a sweetheart and not a hair-snipping jerk. This whole story is sort of how I perceive movieverse Loki - born different, treated different, slowly pushed to the point of what he becomes in the first Thor movie, capable of being terribly mean even in his innocent days, but not exactly evil. It's an odd line to walk and I adore trying to write it. And I totally think him and Sif could have been best buds. And more. But of course, Thor comes along and ruins everything :p Which brings me to my next point - I don't actually think Thor is a "well meaning dolt". I feel the need to clarify that, because as much as I love Loki and fangirl hardcore over him, I love Thor almost just as much - almost - and sometimes I fear we do him a disservice or forget about him entirely, and he's way too awesome to deserve that. **

***gets off soapbox* Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read, and do review and let me know what you think! :D *goes back to waiting miserably for November 8th***


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